Do You Want To Dance? And other stories
by Briticism
Summary: Six drabbles, based on the britcom starring Chris Barrie, The Brittas Empire. TimGavin, Helen Brittas, Mr Brittas
1. Do you want to dance?

**Warning: **very mild male/male relationship. Technically not slash, as they are an actual couple in the show.

**Disclaimer:** The characters of The Brittas Empire are not mine.

**Author's Notes:** I've been wanting to do some more Fan Fiction recently, but though I've started quite a few, their completion has been eluding me. So I decided to write a 100 word piece about The Brittas Empire (I do write about other things though you know!)based the next song I heard. The next song I heard was "Do You Wanna Dance?" which was lucky, as I had some very random things on that CD. The lyrics for it are (paraphrased) "Do you wanna dance and hold my hand, tell me that I'm your man, Do you wanna dance? Do you wanna dance under the moonlight, squeeze and kiss me all through the night, baby, do you wanna dance? " I couldn't see Gavin saying "wanna" when trying to be romantic though. So I changed it. I hope you enjoy it, and please tell me if you liked it, or if you didn't like it, I thrive on reviews, it helps me to improve. It's sad how much longer my intro is to the actual story isn't it. Anyway. Enjoy.

Do You Want To Dance?

He held out his hand, inviting him to take it. His eyes smiled, but his eyes were intense, compelling in the light of the moon and the newly lit candles.

His heart fluttered and the music seemed to swell along with it, rising as if from within him.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked, a shy smile turning the corner of his lips.

Tim did not answer, just smiled and wrapped his arms around Gavin's waist. He felt lips on his hair, and as their feet began to move, he could no longer hear the music. _This is love._


	2. Comfort

I decided I'd add another 100 word story to this collection. Enjoy!

* * *

Tim huddled in a corner, his eyes welled up, hot tears running down his cheeks and his lip trembling. Brittas had upset him yet again. Gavin took one look at him, and pulled him by the hand into privacy. He held him tightly in his arms, stroking the sides of his face and telling him that he loved him. Their lips met with anger and upset turned passion and comfort. Desperate hands roamed under green uniforms. Later they emerged, blushing and dishevelled and smiling happily.But they'd never be able to look at the sauna the same way again. 


	3. Intentions

I decided I'd write some Helen Brittas. Enjoy. Same disclaimers apply.

* * *

My parents wished I were a boy. I don't think they ever got over it, and I'm not sure I did either. I never intended for my life to be like this. I never intended for it to be how it was before either, with all that abuse, and three children to care for. I was young when my real life began. Younger than most and three times as dangerous. It left me age twenty seven and with three children, and an abusive husband, and nothing to do but do it again, but with less of the 'husband' and more of the sex and abuse. And then he was gone as well, and I was left with a man in hospital, jaw wired shut and a look of adoration on his face. I used to tell him everything. Well, almost everything. I thought he was wonderful… He is so full of dreams, so full of… well, I'm sure most people know what else he's full of. He tries, he really does, and I guess in many ways, I do still love him. As long as he's not in the same room as me. And here I am, so doped up on medication that they don't work anymore, three slightly older kids and two more. No plans. Nothing. And married to a man who is over full of plans, so much so that people hate him, and it's just so embarrassing. But sometimes, when I watch him getting excited over some fliers he's writing, or encouraging the staff, or even going on about his dreams for hours on end until I want to run away forever or stab him with whatever comes to hand, I realise that I'm jealous. Sure, I didn't intend my life to be like this.

But, I never intended it to be anything at all.


	4. Apologies

They have a fairly turbulent but loving relationship.

Same disclaimers apply.

* * *

Tim stood at the foot of the bed, teary, nervously clasping his hands. Afraid he'd be rejected, told 'no more'. He waited until Gavin put his book down on his lap, holding his place with one finger, and was looking up at him, waiting, serious. Tim fiddled with the cuff of his pyjamas, then raised his head to meet Gavin's eyes. 

"Sorry."

That's all he needed to say. Gavin held a hand out, drawing him to his side, before sliding over and holding up the duvet to let him in. Tim lay beside him, snuggling into his chest, gulping back tears. Gavin stroked his hair, his heart wrenching.

This scene had played many times. Each time it felt like his heart would break. But he'd rather all this, the fights and the apologies and the hurt, than none of this at all.

He held him close.


	5. Understanding

Disclaimer: The Brittas Empire does not belong to me, and I gain no finance from this piece of writing, it is written purely for entertainment purposes.

A/N: Based on a drabble challenge 'Understanding', for the fanforum.

* * *

The door was shut behind him and he was trapped. Trapped in here with him. A week on the job and he was already terrifying. Tim crossed his arms over his chest and resisted the urge to walk out.

"Now, Timothy…" That nasal whine at the end of his name. Tim winced. "I understand that you and Gavin are room mates".

A roll of the eyes and then a nod.

"I understand that there can be those little tensions between two good friends such as yourselves, but I do have to reprimand you for that little punch and wrestle I saw you give him this afternoon. Also, I must suggest, Timothy, that perhaps you two should spend more time separately and get some counselling… I'm going to suggest that you two work in different areas of the leisure centre for the next few weeks, alright, and I've booked you in for a little chat with me."

Before Tim knew it he was being pushed out the door, a shocked and horrified look on his face.

"I understand, Tim."

No, Mr Brittas. You certainly don't.


	6. Patience

Standard disclaimers apply.

A/N: Someone wants revenge on Gordon.

* * *

Patience

He sat in his study, his fist hurting from where he'd punched him in the jaw before throwing him out of the house. His passport was in front of him on the desk, and he tapped it against the blotter with his good hand, harder and faster each second. This would not do. He just couldn't be here anymore, with the constant visits, the constant jaw clenching, teeth grinding visits. The damage to his property. His stress levels just wouldn't take it anymore. If he'd had his way, he'd have hit him over the head with a handy fireiron. But patience. He'd have the satisfaction of revenge one day. Revenge was a dish best served cold after all. To make sure that there was no one to hinder him, and to make sure that he would be really dead. Patience.


End file.
